


won't you stay, we'll put on the day

by WednesdayGilfillian



Series: Chelsea Morning [3]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Academic Erin, Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tattoo Artist Holtz, The Plot Is That They Like Each Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 19:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11214915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WednesdayGilfillian/pseuds/WednesdayGilfillian
Summary: Holtz wakes up in Erin's bed, and her day only improves from there.





	won't you stay, we'll put on the day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I have no particularly good excuse for continuing this AU, except that I wanted to. As usual, nothing resembling plot lies herein - this is just 3000+ words of these two enjoying each other.
> 
> And, because I have no self-control, we pick up right where the last installment left us...

_Erin settles beside her on the bed and hands her a mug of steaming coffee. It’s already a good day._

It’s good coffee too, and as seconds pass Holtz comes more fully awake to her situation.

She’s naked in Erin’s bed. She spent the night with Erin. And now there’s a sweet sort of tension between them; the particular awkward intimacy of the morning after the night before. But it’s more intimate than it is awkward, and that’s making Holtz smile like a fool.

“So…” she begins, into the bright silence, “do you have big plans for the day?”  
“Well, I _do_ have to grade a bunch of papers, unfortunately,” Erin inclines her head with a rueful smile – and Holtz is struck again by how beautiful she is. “ _But_ if I get that all finished today, then tomorrow I can treat myself with a trip to the farmer’s market.”  
She pauses. “God, that makes me sound really old, doesn’t it?”

Her expression’s adorable, and Holtz laughs, protesting valiantly.  
“Not at all! The farmer’s market’s awesome! Have you tried the Danishes from the cart along the end?”  
“I haven’t.”  
“They’re _incredible_. You have to try one. Preferably tomorrow.”  
Erin smiles. “I might just do that. Assuming I can actually concentrate on my work.”  
“Well, don’t worry,” says Holtz genially, shifting in the bed, “I’ll get out of your way.”

Erin’s eyes go wide. “Oh, no rush!”  
A hand on her thigh arrests Holtz mid-movement – and it should be awkward, but somehow it’s just sweet. Erin obviously hadn’t meant to imply that her guest should be leaving.  
“Well, it _would_ be a shame to rush this excellent coffee…” Holtz grins, settling back once more against the pillows. “Where do you get it?”

It’s a few minutes later that Holtz sets her empty mug down, careful to place it on a coaster. Turning back to Erin, she glances past her to last night’s clothing, lying crumpled on the floor.  
“Would it be okay if I had a quick shower, before I go?”  
“Of course!” Erin slips off the bed at once. “I’ll fetch you a towel.”

Holtz waits till she’s gone to throw the covers aside and get to her feet. It seems pointless to get fully dressed just to go down the hall to Erin’s shower, so she fishes her shirt out from the pile and shrugs it on. It’s the smallest possible concession to modesty. Holtz smiles to herself as she does up a few buttons, not bothering to go all the way to the top. She really can’t remember the last time she felt this good.

She’s just wondering whether the mature thing to do would be to put some pants on when she turns to find Erin, standing stock-still in the doorway. Slightly pink in the cheeks.  
“Sorry…” she breathes, eyes snapping guiltily upwards to the clothed portion of her guest. “I, uh… Here’s your towel.”  
Holtz saunters over to retrieve it, with more confidence than would be permissible if she hadn’t just caught a gorgeous woman checking her out.  
“Thanks.”  
Taking the towel, she shoots Erin a wink as she carries on past her into the hallway. She thinks she hears a soft groan from the bedroom behind her.

Holtz showers quickly, taking in the details of Erin’s tasteful décor. Her scented bath products are matching, and by the time Holtz dresses in last night’s clothes – achieving a stylishly-dishevelled look – she smells of coconut.

Erin’s in the kitchen, pouring milk over a bowl of cereal. She glances up as Holtz enters, and looks her over with a shy sort of smile. Holtzmann’s Friday-night attire is tangible evidence of their date, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love that. She shoves her hands in her trouser pockets.

“Would you like some breakfast?”  
“Nah, I’d better get home and feed the chinchillas.”  
Erin blinks, and then smiles, as though she’s beyond being surprised.  
“Right. Well…”  
Holtz moves, towards the door but mainly towards Erin; who, in turn, is casually closing the distance between them.  
“I hope your day goes well. And hey, if you need to someone to carry your produce at the market…”  
Erin smiles. “I’ll keep you in mind.”

They’ve run out of things to say, so Holtz bites the bullet and steps in for a kiss. It’s the first time they’ve kissed since the night before, and they’re supposed to be saying goodbye – but for a moment Holtz thinks she could almost start something. Still, she marshals her reserve and pulls away.

“See ya, Erin,” she smiles, a little giddily.  
“See ya…”

Outside, the air is crisp and fresh, and Holtz bounces down the front steps. She tries hard not to actually _whistle_.

\--

Her apartment is sunny and quiet when she gets back, and she potters around making unnecessary noise; not just to fill the silence but because she _can’t_ stay quiet and still.

“Heeey, little buddies,” she grins to the chinchillas. She’s pleased to see that their food and water bowls aren’t quite empty. “Sorry I neglected ya last night, but I was _otherwise engaged_.”

And she doesn’t get any more sensible as the day goes on. The giddy feeling isn’t wearing off. She tidies and has lunch and works a bit on some tattoo designs, but she’s restless – in the best way possible. She keeps glancing over at her phone. She’s not expecting a message, she just…likes knowing it’s there, with Erin’s number saved in the contacts.

By the time it’s getting dark, though, Holtz’s restlessness is spiking. She keeps picking up her phone, opening a new message, and then closing it again. And again. And again.

“God, what am I – fifteen?”

She picks up her phone again, and, steeling herself, types an innocuous message.

**_Holtz:_ ** _Hey, hope the grading’s going well :)_

Aaand, send. Holtz tosses her phone onto her bed, fully intending to ignore it. Until it vibrates a few minutes later, and she practically vaults across the tiny room to pick it up. There’s a reply from Erin.

**_Erin:_ ** _Not too bad, thanks :) Though I can’t really say I’ve been giving it my full attention._

Holtz stares at the couple of sentences, excitement rising in her chest.

_Does that mean…? Is she implying…? What do I say in response??_

She’s frantically typing and deleting and retyping messages (of varying degrees of flirtatiousness) when a second message pops up on her screen.

**_Erin:_ ** _Anyway, it’s looking like I will be able to make it to the farmer’s market tomorrow. If you’re still free…?_

The noise Holtzmann makes at that startles her chinchillas.

**_Holtz:_ ** _I’m very free. Just tell me where & when._

\--

They meet by the market entrance, and it takes them a moment to spot each other in the milling crowd. But when they do Holtz’s face splits into a grin, because yet again she’s seeing a different side of Erin. She’s seen Tweedy Academic Erin, Cozy Brunch Erin, Sexy Date-Night Erin…and now Casual Weekend Erin, in jeans and flannel.

_Dang, she’s pretty._

“Hey,” the professor smiles, fiddling with the bag slung over her shoulder.  
“Hey. So, what’s first on the list?”  
Erin looks at her as though this question is absurd. “Coffee.”  
“Coffee,” Holtz nods. “Lead the way…”

The best of the coffee carts is conveniently near the cart selling pastries that Holtz had recommended the morning before. Leaving Erin with her coffee order, she darts across to the sunshine-yellow stall and grins hello to the dark-haired young man serving. Immediately and without question, she is supplied with two apricot-and-custard Danishes. Erin raises an eyebrow, impressed, as she returns with her spoils.

“You didn’t have to pay for that..?”  
“Ah, Jacob owes me. He went and got a _bad_ tattoo one night in Vegas – misspelled and everything – and I put it right, free of charge.”  
“And now you get free baked goods?”  
“Yup.”  
Erin’s face radiates amusement – until she bites into the pastry and her expression melts into one of bliss. “God, you’re right, this _is_ incredible…”

As soon as their hands are free of coffee cups and pastries, they start doing the rounds of the produce stalls. Holtz is quietly amused when Erin pulls out what looks like a meticulous shopping list. While Erin’s distracted, she pulls the canvas bag from her hands and props it open in her arms, ready to fulfil her side of the bargain. The redhead looks up and laughs, slightly flustered.

“You don’t really have to carry that...”  
Holtz leans in, and lowers her voice conspiratorially. “But Erin, this is the flimsy pretext on which I’m getting to enjoy more of your company.”  
This shameless flirting hits its mark; Erin’s eyes are dancing.  
“Ah. Well, in that case…”  
She starts loading vegetables into Holtz’s arms.

They’re not in any rush – this is, after all, a date as much as a shopping errand – and by the time they’ve ticked everything off Erin’s list they’ve covered a number of subjects. (They’ve also brushed each other’s arm far more often than even slightly necessary.)

When they find themselves back at the entrance, Erin checks her watch.  
“Would…you like to come home for lunch?”  
“Sure,” Holtz grins, as casually as possible.

Erin lets them in to her apartment when they arrive, and there’s an un-ignorable domesticity to it; due in no small part to Holtz’s insistence on carrying the produce.  
“Don’t even _think_ about helping unpack that,” Erin warns her, shooing her round to the other side of the breakfast bar. “I’m feeling guilty enough as it is.”  
“Hey, have you heard me complaining?” Holtz replies – but she settles quite happily on a bar stool and watches the professor set about preparing a light lunch.  
“How about I set the table?”

Holtz is generally good at finding her way around other people’s kitchens, and Erin’s is so meticulously organized that she doesn’t have any trouble at all. She’s barely been standing in front of the open cupboard a few seconds before Erin appears behind her, a hand suddenly on the small of her back.  
“Finding everything okay?”  
It’s transparent, and Holtz can’t help smiling as she spins around so that they’re standing face to face.  
“Yup.”  
Without further warning she kisses Erin – all too briefly – on the lips, before ducking past her, carrying two plates. When Erin turns around again, she looks distinctly pleased.

They eat at the breakfast bar, and maybe it’s not what Holtz would make herself for lunch on the average Sunday, but it’s fresh and undoubtedly nutritious. She could quite easily get used to this.

“I’ll deal with those later,” Erin gestures to the dishes, as they move towards her smallish couch. “Tell me about your chinchillas. Do you have any pictures of them on your phone?”  
“ _Do_ I…” Holtz grins, pulling out her phone as they sit down side by side. She flicks through a few photos, Erin leaning distractingly close to see on the small screen.  
“Aww, look at them! They’re adorable!”

Pleased at this response, Holtz hands the phone over for Erin’s further perusal. She flicks through a few photos more, to one of Holtz with her largest chinchilla perched on her shoulder, the two of them making identical faces. Erin laughs, delighted.  
“Okay, that’s excessively cute.”

And Holtz is so pleased with that that she doesn’t notice Erin is moving on to another photo, until the older woman blurts “Wow. Um.”  
The image onscreen shows Holtz in workout gear, flexing as she stares into the camera. Here-and-now-Holtz flushes, inwardly cursing her own carelessness, and stammers an explanation.  
“Oh, t-that’s just… My sister and I have this friendly-rivalry thing where we send each other workout pics looking as buff as possible.”

Erin’s looking a little flushed, too. She keeps a straight face as she says, delicately, “I assume you’re winning…”  
Holtz’s face breaks into a grin, and she laughs breathily.  “That’s nice of ya to say.”

And damn it, she really can’t wait any longer. Neither can Erin, if the way she’s staring at her mouth is anything to go by.

For the polite way they’ve been dancing around each other all morning, it’s not a reserved kiss. It’s the kiss of two people who already know what they do to each other. Holtz feels her temperature rise at once, and when Erin’s tongue meets hers – almost by accident – she can’t help a low groan. She’s been thinking about this for, what, a whole day now? (She’s never been the best with patience.) Erin’s fingers are in her hair and all she wants is to get _closer_ …

Erin tears her mouth away with a gasp, and they both look down to find that Holtz has practically ended up in her lap. The blonde looks back up at her, straight-faced.  
“I really like you. You may have noticed.”  
Erin huffs a flustered laugh, but tries to be deadpan in return.  
“That _is_ kind of the impression I’ve been getting.”  
Holtz grins and leans back in – and now they’re even quicker to ignite.

In fact, it’s getting difficult to conceal exactly how turned on she is. She wants to let Erin decide where this is going, but now that she knows _exactly_ what’s under that flannel…

Mercifully, before Holtzmann can spontaneously combust Erin pulls away again, staring at her out of blown pupils. For some reason, she looks slightly sheepish.  
“I know it’s barely noon, but…”

Catching her drift, Holtz’s mouth curves in a grin, and she breathes a sigh of relief. Leaning in again to kiss the soft skin beneath Erin’s ear, she reaches for the top button on her shirt. She’s got the first few open, revealing a hint of lacy bra, when Erin actually shivers at Holtz’s breath against her neck.  
“Why don’t we…” she stammers, “take this to the bedroom…”

Holtz feels somehow both dazed and hyper-conscious as she follows Erin down the hall – as though she’s in a dream. It’s different now than it was the night of their date. There’s daylight streaming in the windows, and they’re both entirely sober, and they don’t have the ‘excuse’ of it being the end of a date. They just want each other, at 12:02 on a Sunday.

Erin seems conscious of this too – there’s no doubt she wants this, but she’s also a little skittish. She goes round the room drawing the curtains, and when she comes back to Holtzmann beside the bed, she says, only half-jokingly, “I hope you don’t think I invited you over just to get you into bed…”  
Holtz smiles, resuming work on the remaining buttons of Erin’s shirt.  
“I couldn’t really complain if you did; but lunch was very nice, too.”

She nips softly at Erin’s neck, then adds in her ear, “And, to be honest, I haven’t stopped thinking about the other night.”  
“Ah.”  
She’s achieving the desired result; Erin’s chest is heaving slightly in that pretty bra.  
“Well if we’re being _honest_ , I haven’t either…”

Holtz kisses her then, and together they push the shirt from Erin’s shoulders. Holtz is glad of the daylight; she didn’t really get to _see_ Erin the last time. She hopes that’s coming across – how much she’s enjoying the view. Certainly Erin has to have noticed the enthusiasm with which Holtz is undressing her.

The bra is soon discarded – causing a helpless groan of appreciation from Holtz – and she wastes no time in setting to work on Erin’s jeans. As they push the underwear down Erin’s legs the warm scent of arousal hits her and, on impulse, Holtz drops to her knees.  
“Just a taste,” she promises, looking up at Erin, who stands there wide-eyed. She had probably expected that they’d at least make it to the bed.

Of course, Holtz wants more than a taste – but for now she tells herself she’ll stop when she elicits the right kind of noise. And the first sound Erin makes is drowned by Holtz’s own moan of satisfaction, so it’s a full glorious minute before a deep moan from above obliges Holtz to pull away. She gets to her feet again, wiping at her mouth, to find Erin gazing at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

“Just…had to do that,” she offers by way of explanation. “Now, we were, um…”  
“Removing your clothes,” confirms Erin, and she looks so determined about it that Holtz feels suddenly weak.  
“Right. Go ahead…”

If Erin’s still apprehensive about taking a younger woman to bed in the middle of the day, she’s certainly less so than she was a few minutes ago. When she pulls Holtz’s t-shirt over her head and finds her bra-less beneath it, the blonde wonders briefly if she’s about to be eaten alive.

“No-Bra Sundays,” she jokes weakly, her mouth very dry.  
“I could come around to that,” Erin says evenly, eyes fixed on the sight she’s just uncovered.  
She leans in and tugs Holtz’s earlobe between her teeth, causing the blonde to let out a shuddering breath.

Things speed up after that. Before Holtz knows it she’s in Erin’s bed – cradled between her thighs – raised up on one arm so that she can look down at her face, because _she wants to see this_. She wants to take her time now, to watch Erin’s face as her fingers move. And Erin sees what she’s doing, and doesn’t resist it; she gazes right back. Except for those moments when she just can’t keep her eyes open. And Holtz loves that, as much as anything.

They’re _so close together_. And God, she feels so good.  
When the pull around her fingers has Holtz panting curse words, Erin grinds out “How is it _you’re_ the one swearing right now?”, before trailing off in a helpless keen. Holtz smirks.  
“Well hey, don’t hold back on my account.”

She’ll never tire of having Erin Gilbert writhe beneath her, but Holtz does have some empathy; she wants Erin to have her release.  And she pushes her to it, with her fingers this time because again _, she wants to see this_. And it’s beautiful.

Pulling away, rising off her, Holtz glances down at the wetness between Erin’s thighs, and groans. She makes to move downwards, hoping to taste her, but Erin waylays her with a hand at her shoulder.  
“My turn now. And – _hah_ – I’d say you’re ready.”  
There’s no denying that, with the involuntary way Holtz moves against her fingers. Holtz compromises by licking her own slick fingers clean, and watching as Erin’s gaze darkens.

“Lie on your back?”  
Holtz does so willingly, and is on the point of beginning some irrelevant sentence when Erin _straddles her_ and her mind goes blank. This is the same woman who politely served her lunch back in the kitchen. Who wears ludicrous tweedy skirt suits to work.  
_You just **never** know…_

Holtz is staring up at the vision astride her and her expression probably looks almost pained, but that’s only because she’s never known anything hotter. And she’s trying not to let herself be distracted by the wet heat against her stomach, because there’s so much _else_ …  
She clasps Erin’s hips, lets her thumbs skim the soft, imperfect skin – taking in every inch of her. 

“ _Erin_ , you’re so…”  
And again she fails to speak, because Erin has reached around behind herself, between Holtz’s legs. And _fuck_ , given the position she’s surprisingly dexterous. (Though Holtz has given up being surprised, at this point.) The way she’s arching presents her breasts irresistibly for attention, and Holtz sits up just long enough to take a nipple into her mouth before a well-placed stroke on her clit has her falling back again.  
“ _Fuhhck…_ ”

Erin smiles down at her. She looks faintly surprised at the reaction she’s getting (though Holtz can’t think why, because what did Erin _think_ that view would do to her?)

In the end what does it is the onslaught on her senses. Erin’s fingers, but also the sight of her. She’s moved for the sake of an easier angle, but there’s still an incredible view. The fall of her hair around her face, the slight bounce of her breasts as she moves… Before long it’s all too much, and Holtz comes, biting her lip. Once she’s stilled Erin rolls off her, leaving her sprawled on her back and panting. And wet – embarrassingly wet.

“I may be ruining your sheets…but _fuck_ , Erin…”

Erin chuckles and reaches for her hand, raising it to her lips. She’s still smiling as she kisses Holtz’s knuckles. Something twinges in the younger woman’s chest. She has neither the ability nor the desire to move from her current position, and her breathing evens out as they lay there, side by side.

When she opens her eyes again, the light in the room is subtly different. It must be early afternoon. Erin has rolled onto her side, facing towards her. Her eyelashes flutter; she’s only sleeping lightly. Holtz smiles, wider than she means to – she should really be checking the clock. But that would entail moving, of course – and it’d be a shame to disturb her host.

Erin stirs, though, after a few more minutes. Holtz doesn’t know whether to pretend not to have been looking at her or not, but when their eyes do meet Erin gives her a warm, sleepy smile.  
“Looks like we took a nap.”  
“I guess we did.”  
Erin stretches, and sighs. “What’s the time? Hmm, two o’clock.”

“I should probably head home,” says Holtz, without moving. “I’ve had a new design commissioned, and I wanna make a few finishing touches before tomorrow.”  
Erin’s smile radiates genuine interest. “I hope that goes well for you.”

That’s clearly not all Erin’s saying. The words are spoken so warmly, she’s so smiling and _soft_ – there’s something being said between the lines. That – and the hazy quality of the curtain-filtered sunlight – makes Holtz feel able to ask the thing she’s been meaning to.

“Um,” she begins, “I was thinking… Do you…want to make this… D’yawannabemygirlfriend?”

And she had thought Erin’s smile was pretty before.

“Yeah.”  
“Oh,” the young woman nods, stupidly. “Cool.”

Laughing softly at herself, Holtz leans across to kiss her. Going by this kiss, and the one in Erin’s kitchen the other morning, they’re not very good at the one-last-kiss-before-I-go. It keeps lengthening. Only when Erin’s fingers work their way into her hair does Holtz pull away, already slightly breathless.

“I was gonna go, wasn’t I?”  
“I think that _is_ what you said.”

One, two, three seconds… Impulse control has never been Holtz’s strong point.

In an instant her body is flush against Erin’s once more, and Erin is smirking against her mouth. Holtzmann feels lithe legs wrap around her, and she just has to accept that she’s not going anywhere – probably not for at least another hour.

It’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think...? Maybe one day I'll write an E-rated fic without making myself blush, but until then any feedback would be greatly appreciated. <3


End file.
